Darkness Shines
by Tallbrain123
Summary: The year is 4E 223. A lot has happened since the Dragonborn's disappearance a decade ago, leaving Skyrim a relatively safe place to live. So when Illias, the son of Skyrim's first beer brewer, has a prophetic vision that saves his life, he doesn't understand why everyone seems to want him dead. Alone and scared, he turns to his only option: the assassin that was sent to kill him.
1. Chapter 1: An Age of Light

A/N: This story requires a basic/moderate level of understanding of Skyrim's storyline and lore to enjoy fully, and there will be spoilers. You have been warned.

* * *

Darkness Shines

The year is 4E 223. The Last Dragonborn, legendary defeater of Alduin, as well as the well-renowned Listener for the Dark Brotherhood, mysteriously disappeared several years ago, without a trace. Some say he died, while others say he left in search of adventure in other parts of Tamriel. Still others claim that he sailed far away from Tamriel entirely, seeking out lands unknown. And while many mourned his loss, life quickly returned to normal for Skyrim.

With Alduin gone, the dragon menace had been quickly taken care of. Any dragons that weren't killed by guardsmen or dragonslayers were found to be allies to Paarthurnax, who himself made amends to the races of Tamriel for the dragons' past deeds. Most of the Jarls gave him protection, though the Jarls of Winterhold, Riften, and Morthal did not see fit to trust dragonkind, for a variety of reasons.

The great Civil War had ended even before the Dragonborn had disappeared. He had not taken a side in the war, and the Stormcloak army may have prevailed, had the Aldmeri not seen fit to end the uprising once and for all. Skyrim is under strong Imperial control by now, though Talos worship still persists in the North and the East. And even though Ulfric Stormcloak and his cause are long dead, the anti-elf Imperial rebels still cling to the name "Stormcloaks". The meaning has changed, and now, many unite under the banner against the Dominion, including the Black-Briars and, by some accounts, the High Queen Herself. Few, though, are willing to openly oppose the might of the Mer.

Many other details considering Skyrim remain as one could expect; the Thieves guild grows stronger with each passing year, amid whispers that they once received help from the Last Dragonborn. The Dark Brotherhood holds Skyrim, Morrowind, Cyrodiil, and now Hammerfell in a strong grip, and is expanding rapidly. Jarl Elisif the Fair is now High Queen Elisif, and struggles to hold the country together while preventing both a Great War and another civil war. Khajiit caravans have become slightly more common, despite nearly disappearing for a few years during a tightening of Aldmeri security, and the caravans are occasionally allowed within the walls of towns.

More notably, Winterhold suffered another near-collapse. Though the mages in the College did everything they could, and prevented any casualties, tensions continued to grow between them and the civilians. The people of the town eventually abandoned the cliffside buildings and moved farther inland, granting the Mages' College some much-appreciated space for delicate experiments and creating peace in Winterhold. With the lack of a civil war to hide under, many of Skyrim's bandits, draugr, and necromancers have been dealt with. And quite surprisingly to most inhabitants of Skyrim, and to the chagrin of the struggling Dawnguard, the vampires of Castle Volkihar, under Serana's leadership, are an officially-recognized state, so long as they don't feed on the peoples of Tamriel. Once it was widely understood that they need not feed for decades at a time, they were granted a fragile amnesty, and now, Castle Volkihar is the destination of Skyrim's worst criminals, who serve as thralls for the hungry vampires. In fact, many believe that other forms of undead, and even lycanthropes take refuge on the island, and a mortal human being stranded on the island would face a fate worse than death.

Many specific details about the Dragonborn have already become uncertain; many in Skyrim say he was a Nord, whereas those from Cyrodiil claim he was Imperial. The Khajiit caravaneers recall trading with a Khajiit, and Argonian dock workers remember the legendary Argonian who showed them kindness. Because of the confusion resulting from so many stories, he's commonly depicted as a fair-skinned man, with features from many of the different races of Tamriel, making it nearly impossible to tell just who he was. And to top it off, there are still many who claim that the Dragonborn was, in fact, female.

All things considered, Skyrim has become fairly boring, for adventurers. Once the masses saw how easy the Dragonborn made it look, there was a surge of adventurers. Since that meant less people working where it really mattered, the economy began to suffer, despite the extra money being found inside crypts and hideouts. Around this time, the Aldmeri tightened their security, leaving less and less treasure in bandits' hideouts and the like, causing most to give up and go home to take after their fathers and mothers. Tensions grew, and the Aldmeri withdrew, but Skyrim remained a largely peaceful place, now that the dragons, bandits, and undead had nearly been taken care of.

This is where our story begins.

* * *

Chapter 1: An Age of Light

Illias glanced around nervously at the darkened valley he found himself in as he slowed his pace. He struggled to catch his breath, knowing that he couldn't stop moving for long, lest the creature in the night find him in this valley. Around him, craggy mountains rose up on each side, imposing walls of black stone reaching high into the sanguine sky. With one last glance into the darkness from which he'd come, Illias ran forward once again, his torch sputtering as its fuel began to run out.

The only sounds that rung through the mountains were the sounds of Illias' panicked footsteps, and the wind as it whistled through the mountain peaks. To Illias, though, the sounds rung out like alarm bells, shouting his presence to the entire night so that every vampire, werewolf, and lich knew where to find a quick meal. He glanced back once more in fear, and stumbled, falling to the rocky ground hard and sliding a short distance, leaving a painful cut on his hand.

He grunted in pain, and then gasped when he realized his torch had flown out of his hand. It tumbled a few times and suddenly went out, leaving Illias in total darkness.

"No, no, no," he whispered, bringing his knees up to his face. He glanced into the darkness furtively, before making an effort to crawl forward. He managed a few tentative steps, before he misplaced his hand on a sharp rock, and only made his injured hand bleed more. With another grunt, he found himself looking up at the mountain peaks above. What he saw made his heart sink. He'd been going the wrong way; he'd walked right into a dead end. He stood up and rushed forward, heedless of the darkness as he stumbled about with his hands out in front of him. His hands quickly slapped against a cold, smooth wall, and he fell to his knees as despair crippled his heart.

And then he heard it. Soft as a whisper, almost as though the whistling wind itself was talking, he heard a voice.

"The steel bite," it began in a slow, haunting melody, "the kiss of night,"

"Who's there?" Illias whispered as the voice took a short pause. He had wanted to be intimidating, but his voice, like his strength, had left him.

"...our guilt that's been sustained..."

"I'm warning you," he squeaked, drawing his dagger with his uninjured hand.

"In darkness lies," the voice continued quickly, as if out of the wall Illias was leaning against. He backed away and pointed his small knife at it threateningly as it finished the line, "the knife to slake..."

"Stay back," Illias mouthed, but by now, even his breath had left him. His hand trembling and his mind panicked, Illias began to turn in small circles, straining his eyes to see something, anything.

"...the thirst for death's embrace..."

Illias waited, frozen in fear for a full minute as the wind continued to whistle through the mountains. But he heard nothing else. He saw no movement. Not even a cloud appeared above the darkened valley. He let himself sigh in relief when it became evident that nothing was hiding in the darkness. And then he found himself taking another deep breath. And another.

"No matter," he said to himself, putting his knife away. He reached a hand into the darkness and felt the wall once again, and patted it twice. Even in total darkness, he could find the exit if he just followed the wall, so long as he didn't lose his footing. He nodded, letting a nervous smile come across his face as he decided in his mind which way to follow. With a shrug, he decided to follow it to his right, and so turned around.

Quick as a flash, a pale face leapt out of the darkness with a shriek, fangs bared and eyes wide. Illias took in a breath and tried to reach for his knife, but before he even felt his own knife, the attackers' had been driven deep into his chest.

"Agh!" he shouted, falling backwards. When he should've hit the ground, he continued downward, as if into an abyss. Confused and in pain, Illias grunted and clutched his chest, awaiting the impact that would bring him out of the pain and into Sithis' numb embrace.

"Illias!" someone shouted, making him start. His eyes shot open and he looked around, panting. He was no longer outdoors, but in a familiar room. Hawks flew just outside the window. A magic light cast its warm glow around the room, which felt blinding to Illias. A very angry-looking man in deep blue robes was staring at him intently as his only peer giggled at him for having fallen asleep during a lesson yet again.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" the old man asked.

"I'm sorry, sir –" Illias tried as his heart slowed to a normal pace.

"Just like you were sorry yesterday?" the girl asked. "And the day before that."

"I haven't been getting much sleep," he explained.

"We know," she replied. "You are Vaermina's chosen apprentice."

"I am not," he snapped.

"Well, last time someone had as many nightmares as you're having was...twenty years ago?"

"It is _not_ Vaermina!"

"Hey, I can't help it if a Daedra's after you."

"You're just mad because I'm already an Adept level conjurer."

"As if I need _that_," she retorted. "I can already outdo you at anything else."

"That will be enough out of both of you," the wizard said.

"Yes, Aunen," the female apprentice and Illias' twin sister, Ilasse, said quickly.

"Yes, Aunen," Illias echoed a little slower, scowling at his sister.

"Very good. Now, I would like to go over warding again," Aunen began, before glaring at Illias, "that is, if we can all stay awake this time. Hmm?"

"I know, I know," he said, looking down. "It won't happen again."

"Not today, at least," Ilasse whispered. Illias shook his head, but couldn't stop a smile from coming across his face. Sure, she was annoying, and sometimes he wanted to lock her in a cage with a frost troll, but she was his sister, after all, and as much as he hated it, he loved her.

As his chosen mentor and trusted ally began to go over the boring specifics of ward spells, Illias' mind wandered back to the past few seasons of his life.

He'd come to Solitude several months ago, leaving his parents in Windhelm to forge his own path, away from the family brewery. It was a successful business, since beer seemed to be a mostly new concept to the people of Skyrim, but he didn't want anything to do with it. It wasn't anything personal against his father, who had beamed with pride over his son when he'd thought he would take over the business. He just couldn't see himself staying in one place for very long. But even after he told that to his father, he couldn't help feeling that he would always be disappointed.

He hadn't just left on a whim, either. He had known exactly how his parents would react, so he'd spent months beforehand planning his departure and making sure it would all go smoothly. He told his parents that he wanted to pursue magic, specifically the school of conjuration. When they asked where he would go, he told them he would head to Morthal, to study with Falion, a Conjuration expert. He'd counted on their overprotectiveness then; Morthal was barely protected from the creatures that lived in the swamp surrounding the town. In searching for an excuse to move him somewhere safer (and closer), they suggested Winterhold, just like he'd predicted. He told them that he'd wanted to go somewhere warmer, and they suggested Solitude (being one of the most heavily fortified towns in the country). With a disappointed expression, but an inward grin, he agreed to go to Solitude instead.

Once, he'd felt bad whenever he manipulated people. And in fact, he still did. But in the end, he'd felt deprived of any other option; he'd needed to get far away from Winterhold, while deflecting attention from his own magical pursuits. He knew that suggesting Falion as his mentor would make everyone who learned of it think he was into necromancy. And even though that wasn't openly combated by anyone but the Vigilants of Stendarr, he knew they would only concentrate on keeping him away from corpses, completely ignoring his true abilities.

He'd considered Conjuration fun and challenging; calling a being from another plane of existence, then binding it to his will, was not easy. But he didn't actually think he had a future in it, especially since he hadn't yet raised the corpse of a skeever for a full ten seconds. His true capabilities, in fact, weren't a part of any of the schools of magic. At least, not as far as he knew.

He still didn't quite know how to describe it. If he had to, he would say that he received visions of the future, but that wasn't true. He could say they were just precognitions, but that wasn't quite accurate, either. It was as if he suddenly knew what he needed to know, before he could've possibly learned it. For example, he recalled buying a tome for a spell which would allow him to summon a familiar, a wolf-like spirit that would protect him to the death. But the moment he opened the tome, he suddenly realized that he'd already read it before, though he couldn't recall when. At the same time, though, he knew he'd never actually held a copy of the tome; he wasn't the type to simply forget spells. He could only assume it was in a dream where he read it, but it only seemed to be useful in the fact that he didn't have to study the tome to learn the spell. He managed to keep this, and many other situations quiet, and he was thankful for that when it came time to leave.

His strange gift was actually the real reason he'd left. He hadn't wanted the mages in Winterhold to catch wind of his gift and perform experiments or tests on him. Aside from the overall creepiness of that, he assumed they would keep him even more cooped up than his parents had. So he concocted a plan to get away from Winterhold completely, and quickly wound up in Solitude, surrounded by soaring hawks, high walls, and all the protection his parents could buy, which happened to include the opportunity to train and lodge within Castle Dour.

Illias leaned back in his seat and refocused on Aunen, just before the old man glared at him to make sure he was paying attention. He gave a sly smile, thanking his unique gift as the wizard continued to go over his supposedly ingenious twist on his ward spell. He was claiming that, rather than absorbing the impact of a spell, it would reflect it back at the attacker, hopefully adding a little kick to it in the process. He thankfully asked Ilasse to help him demonstrate it, and Illias watched expectantly. He admitted that he didn't know what would happen, and he was later glad that he hadn't known beforehand.

"Alright, now remember; just a small firebolt," he warned as Ilasse prepared her spell, "we don't know how well it will work yet."

"I know, I know," she said. "At least _I_ was paying attention."

"Hey, I was, too," Illias countered. She merely rolled her eyes with a smile, before turning to Aunen.

"Ready?" she asked. He nodded, and held out his hand, and a wall of nearly-invisible light formed in front of him, slowly growing thicker until its outer edges glowed brightly. Without a word, Ilasse gathered energy in her palm and took a nervous step back, preparing to sidestep the firebolt if it were actually to be reflected. She threw her hand forward, and the ball of fire shot forward, ramming into the ward. In that instant, an explosion rocked the room, nearly knocking Illias out of his seat. Ilasse dove for cover, and Aunen held his hand out farther, until the fire cleared the room. When it was gone, Illias looked around, making sure everyone was okay while the carnage settled and the noise of falling objects subsided. Once he was sure no harm had been done, he looked at Aunen, and saw the ward now glowing red, as though it were on fire itself. He smiled at the wizard as he doused the spell.

"That almost worked," he said with a laugh.

* * *

"Well, that wasn't too bad," a woman shrouded in dark robes said softly as she rode through a snowy forest near Dawnstar. Her words fell only on the ears of her horse, though, as she followed a little-known and lightly-used path to her payment, which waited her for having done a job well. The tawny horse continued noiselessly through the snow, its simple mind only focused on its next meal. The woman, however, turned her eyes to the sky, and continued pouring out her mind to her silent companion.

"I had thought that he would put up more of a fight, being an Orc and all. But I guess 'There is honor in Elsweyr,' y'know? Khajiit aren't always thieves, and I guess Orcs aren't always brutes. Still, you'd think he would've at least drawn his knife. If it can be called that; I think it would be better suited to buttering a roll than slitting a throat. I guess he doesn't have to worry about that, though: I did it for him."

The horse shook its head abruptly, trying to dislodge a bug from its ear. But its rider apparently derived some kind of humor from the movement, since it continued to make those noises that the horse didn't recognize.

"Oh, come on, boy, you've got to be used to it by now. We've been in the Brotherhood for years now. Heck, I think you've even helped me with a few of the contracts. Wasn't it...oh, yeah! The Hlaalu job. Guards thought it was an accident, too. Nicely done, if I say so myself."

She only rode in silence for a few minutes before noticing a single nightshade flower ahead of her, growing out of the snowy ground. She turned the horse slightly to the left after passing the simple landmark, and sighed.

"These dead-drops are always so boring," she commented. "I think it's about time I stopped in on the Sanctuary. Saw what the others were up to. Of course, Nazir and Babette are probably still handling business, but I wonder what else. Maybe they've got some new recruits? That'd be nice, eh, Brill? Maybe a Khajiit or Argonian? I heard there was one of those, once, a while back. Va-raza or Veezara, or something. Shadowscale, supposedly. Be nice to see another sometime.

"I know, I know, I moved away from the Sanctuary on purpose," she said after the horse shook its head once more. "But they didn't understand. They thought I was just there because I like killing. It isn't like I can tell anyone else about Joseph, and it's bad enough that Babette already knows. Gods forbid Nazir finds out. The years haven't exactly been kind to him."

She sighed once more and leaned back slightly, looking up at the sky again. For once during the ride from Falkreath to this drop point, she kept silent and brooded over the past. It had been years since she'd seen or heard from Joseph. The two had grown extremely close, but she knew he wouldn't be the type to call it "falling in love". Still, she would've put it that way, and she'd been expecting him to ask her to marry him. But suddenly one day, he disappeared. After a few days of denial, she realized he may have been in danger, and searched for him. But by the time she found out that he'd been taken to Hammerfell for some reason, it was too late; he'd been moved too many times for her to track him down, despite her efforts. The closest she could get was that he was in either Skyrim or Morrowind, and whoever had taken him did not want him to be discovered. But she knew he wasn't incompetent; he would escape eventually, and he would be looking for a friendly face when he did.

So she didn't simply stop looking. Even now, as she took contracts, she was searching. They gave her the funding and reasons to travel all over Skyrim, and she made sure to keep her eyes open, but she hadn't found him yet. And for all she knew, the Brotherhood wouldn't take too kindly to her desire to leave once she did find him.

The horse nickered and looked ahead to a fallen tree some distance ahead. Recognition clicked in its mind, and it stopped walking, ready for the snack that would surely be coming. Its rider dismounted and walked over to the bottom portion of the tree, reaching in without looking. After a few seconds, a smile came across the Breton's face, and it pulled out some shiny clear stones, along with a brown bag that, by the sound of it, held those strange yellow disks that the two-legs seemed to enjoy so thoroughly. It reached in again, and the smile disappeared, replaced with concern. It pulled out a folded piece of paper, like it did when they were about to go on a journey, and the horse moved forward to remind the human of its snack.

"What's this? Another contract already?" she asked aloud. Her horse, Brill, came closer slowly, and she looked at it questioningly, pocketing the gemstones and coins before refocusing on the note. Sure enough, it was sealed properly and everything.

"Weird," she said. "They never give me two contracts in a row. Must be important. Oh, well. I guess I'm moving up in the world," she said happily, opening the note. She scanned it quickly, her expression becoming gradually less cheerful, until she let her hand fall to her side and looked back at Brill, who stopped moving immediately.

"Huh," she said, turning the note over with a confused expression. "The guys aren't usually this melodramatic. And they usually give me more information," she said, squinting at the note. Brill chose that moment to nuzzle her arm, and she broke into a smile.

"You're right," she said, petting his nose. "Nobody else would know how to seal the note, or where to even put it. Guess I'm just being paranoid."

She lifted the note and reread it, before her eyes widened.

"Brill, look at this!" she exclaimed. "It's a Breton! It could be Joe!"

The horse shook its head once more, wondering when the human would quit beating around the bush and just feed it already.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "I do have a nice life here, and all, but I've been waiting for this for...as long as I can remember. If this...I mean, if it's really him..."

She found her eyes watering, and quickly wiped them. She hadn't wanted to cry, but she had been searching him since before she'd even joined the Dark Brotherhood. She still loved him, in fact, and had never stopped searching. She had even come up with a password, based off of a sort of inside joke between the two of them; something she whispered to each of her victims before making the kill. It was enough to paralyze many with fear, and it even made the other members of the Brotherhood a little nervous, but she knew that only one person would know how to respond. And if she ever heard that response, then she would be more than willing to leave Skyrim behind, even if it meant that the Brotherhood would hunt the pair of them to the ends of Nirn.

Brill chose that moment to whinny softly. She smiled and stared at him for a bit, before pulling a carrot out of her satchel and offering it to him.

"You're right, it's too soon to think about that," she said as it ate the snack contentedly. "If we find him, then I guess we'll be leaving Skyrim. And if not...well, I guess the name 'Illias' really isn't an alias."


	2. Chapter 2: The Day of Darkness

Chapter 2: The Day of Darkness

"Illias, wait up!" Ilasse called as her twin brother hurried out of Castle Dour. As always, he'd left as soon as possible, and if she knew him as well as she thought she did, he was headed out to talk to the Khajiit caravaneers. He always so enjoyed meeting new people. Besides, this was the day Ja'Kir was supposed to visit.

"Slow down!" she called after he ignored her first plea. He glanced back then, and slowed his pace, but he didn't stop walking.

"What?" he asked once she caught up with him.

"Oh, don't say it like that," she said at his annoyed tone. "I just wanted to talk."

"You always 'just want to talk'. Every day for the past week you've 'just wanted to talk'."

"Well, maybe I like being around my brother?"

"You're sure it has nothing to do with making sure I don't become a necromancer?" he asked.

"Of course not. I think I would know if you were doing that; I've seen you try, and the undead turns to dust before you can even tell it to do something. Besides, you're about as subtle as a thunderstorm."

"Hey, I can be subtle."

"Really?" she asked knowingly. She held up a hand and starting counting on her fingers as she named examples, "How about the whole thing with the Jarl of Markarth? Or the Thanes of Solitude _and_ Morthal, the skeever incident, and –"

"Okay, okay, I get it. But don't bring up the –"

"...the atronach?" she asked with a smirk.

"I said not to bring that up again," he said, looking down slightly.

"I see why. I mean, you almost killed thirteen guards. And I'm surprised the Emperor's Tower is still standing, to be honest."

"We don't bring up the atronach, okay?" he asked.

"Alright, fine," she agreed with a smile. But he knew that she would be bringing it up again soon. All he'd wanted to do was bind an atronach to a ring, so that he could summon and bind it just by wearing the ring. It almost worked, but the atronach was unbound instead, meaning it didn't obey him, and it proceeded to try to destroy Solitude. When it was finally put down, the explosion typical to atronachs' deaths was enhanced, nearly destroying the Emperor's Tower. Thankfully, nobody was truly hurt that day, but...it was a close one.

"You just couldn't be content with _summoning_ a flame atr-"

"Okay, I get it! Just shut up!"

"Alright, okay," she said with a laugh. Illias shook his head with an exasperated sigh, but couldn't help a smile. She let out a laugh at that, and her mood only brightened when a small group of children ran through the streets, narrowly sidestepping her and her brother. Their laughter carried through the streets happily, making the sunny day seem all that much brighter. If she wasn't already busy with her brother, she would join them in the game until she couldn't run any more.

She saw him speed up out of the corner of her eye, and looked ahead to the Khajiit merchants ahead, lined up against the city's inner wall. She could recognize a few of them herself, even though they hadn't been allowed very far into the town. _Illias probably knows them all_, she mused.

She never knew why he enjoyed spending so much time with the peculiar foreigners. Maybe he just pitied them; they never stopped moving for more than a few days, and, despite the roads' safeness lately, still endured attacks from wild animals and the occasional bandit clan. Maybe it had something to do with the race itself; she doubted it, but she couldn't help comparing the younger Khajiit to kittens. But she truly believed it was just these particular Khajiit; despite appearing secretive and poor, they were surprisingly generous and outgoing. Of course, that was only outside of their business dealings. They were careful and keen, and made money wherever they went.

Illias picked up speed as he ran ahead, making a beeline for Ja'Kir, a boy about his age. As far as Ilasse knew, he was Illias' best friend, of any race. That wasn't saying very much, to be sure; his next best friend was a certain hawk that he'd decided to name "Edward", though he had never once told her about it. She only knew about that because, as she had said before, he was not subtle at all.

She wondered more about him as he spoke with Ja'Kir. Even with him being predictable and transparent, he had been very secretive lately. She still hadn't figured out his real reason for coming to Solitude, but she knew he had one beyond what he'd told their parents. Back then, she only knew that she had to follow him. When her parents had asked (and they _had_ asked, repeatedly), she couldn't tell them anything solid. All she had was a hunch, with a vague feeling that something wasn't quite right. That hadn't been enough for them, but she managed to convince them that she had to keep Illias safe. She was actually pretty sure that they wanted her back, but they couldn't leave Winterhold to come and get her.

"Hey, Ilasse, look at this," Illias called, looking over one of the Khajiit's wares. He was holding up a silver necklace, with an ornate pendant on it. It was beautiful, even if she couldn't tell whether it was of Khajiit construction. She decided to get a closer look at it, though she knew she couldn't afford it. She stopped herself from thinking about money, though; her parents' wealth was not hers, and she didn't want to worry about when, or if, they would send money again.

Illias handed the necklace to her before looking over the other items the khajiit was showing off. As she held it up to her throat and looked down at it, it brought a smile to her face. She imagined she was in a court, maybe the Blue Palace, arrayed in jewelry finer than this. Maybe she was the court wizard. Or perhaps the Jarl's steward. She could even be a princess, strutting about in a gown made especially for her. In fact, the best tailors in Skyrim, no, Tamriel, would vie for her approval. With a glance, she could bring a smile to her subjects' faces, and with a nod, children would give her polite bows and curtsies, wobbly though they were.

"Ilasse!" Illias shouted. "Are you listening?"

"Hmm?" she asked, shaking herself slightly. "What did you say?"

"I wanted to know if you had a few Septims I could borrow," he repeated. She noticed the book in his hands, and sighed. He was already holding it, meaning he had decided to get it at almost any cost.

"How much?" she asked, bringing a smile to his face. Subjects, she mused, would have to wait. For now, she could at least bring smiles to the people around her.

* * *

The assassin atop her tawny horse crested a hill, coming into view of Solitude in the distance. A cowl still covered her eyes, though its pale green was a sharp contrast to the black hood she'd donned at the start of her ride, several days ago. She had learned not to travel in her Brotherhood armor, instead often wearing the simple hide armor of a hunter, or even the clothes of a peasant or, more rarely, a merchant. In any case, she almost always kept her head covered. Aside from the options afforded to her because nobody could memorize her face, she liked keeping the sun out of her eyes. Now, she was no vampire, but the hood was just one more tool to add mystery. After all, people fear what they don't understand.

_But that's only when they know to be afraid_, she thought as a passing stranger waved at her happily. She nodded back with a smile, keeping completely silent. It didn't seem to bother him, though, as he continued on his way, whistling a quiet tune. She let the smile stay as she looked up at the sun, now giving the sky a slightly darker hue as it began to set. Her timing was impeccable. She could get into the city, kill her target, and probably get back to Dawnstar by the end of the week. But that would mean giving Brill a rest for most of the night, which would be hard already, knowing how hard the guards would be looking for a murderer. The nearest settlement would be Dragon Bridge, which would be a much simpler plan. That way, Brill would only need a few hours' rest while she did her job, and she could be gone long before sunrise. Then, she could stay the next few days in the inn, and be back in no time.

"That'll work," she told herself, nearing the bottom of the hill. To her right, the path stretched out to the stables, the docks, and eventually Skyrim's northern coast. Straight ahead loomed the front gates to Solitude, capital of Skyrim. She sat up straight, and pulled back gently on the right reins, guiding Brill down to the stables.

"Look at that horse," a Nord woman said as she dismounted. The woman stepped forward almost timidly, watching the horse with wide eyes. "What do you call him?"

"Brillam," she said, stroking his mane. He was an impressive horse, but she didn't think it warranted such a strong reaction from the stable worker.

"He looks...different from other horses. I can't quite put my finger on it...is he from Skyrim?"

"Cyrodiil," she corrected. But she wasn't here for small talk. "How much for the night?"

"Oh! Right. That'll be five septims."

"Here you go," she said idly as she handed over the small coins and the horse's reins.

"So, why Cyrodiil?" the woman asked. "You won't find horses tougher than right here in Skyrim."

"Why have a sturdy horse that can't outrun a wolf?" she asked knowingly, turning to leave.

"Oh! Well, there aren't many wolves in these parts, now, are there? Good thing, too. Couldn't bear the thought of losing my beauties to those mongrels."

"Take care of Brill," she called, not interested in the woman's life story.

"Wait!" she shouted, finally looking away from Brill. "I never caught your name!"

The Brotherhood assassin lowered her head and chuckled, pretending she hadn't heard, despite being well within earshot. After shrugging her hood up, she looked both ways, and then turned away from the path that led to Solitude's front gates.


	3. Chapter 3: The Steel Bite

Chapter 3: The Steel Bite

The assassin reached the top of the tower well past sundown, and had to lean against the wall for a moment's rest, breathing heavily.

"Sithis take these stairs," she panted, looking out the wide doorway in front of her. Ahead, a bridge stretched toward the Emperor's Tower, just wide enough for four people to walk across side-by-side. Lit only by the pale moonlight, it was perfect for her entry and exit; dark and hidden from view.

Before continuing, she looked back the way she'd come. Thankfully, she hadn't run into any guards, but she had to wonder where they were. It wasn't like the Solitude guards to leave this not-so-secret passage unguarded. As she thought about it, she realized she hadn't seen any guards within the city. Her view was a small one, but no patrols kept watch that she saw, save those outside of the city.

She shrugged it off, more hopeful that she could disappear soon. The guards being out-of-sight only meant she had to be wary, lest she be caught in a trap. That was, after all, the only thing that made sense. But unless someone within the court had committed treason, it wouldn't demand for _all_ of the guards to be missing. Something was off, but she didn't care; her job was simple, and would be done in a few minutes. Then she could satisfy her curiosity from a safe distance.

She trotted across the bridge in a crouch, careful to remain hidden from the view of any guards on the walls. Halfway across, she dared a glance over the short wall to her left. Far below, in the city's streets, she saw nothing moving. No guards. No citizens. Not even a beggar lingered the streets on this night.

She fought the growing sense that something was wrong and rushed into the building, closing the door quietly behind her. She emerged into a small dining room and let a smirk break across her face. This was the room where the emperor's decoy had been poisoned by the Dragonborn. Apparently, they weren't too superstitious, since this room hadn't been closed off or made taboo. But she'd wasted enough time, and hurried to the room's door, creaking it open and peering out.

She didn't know why the barren hallways surprised her. _Maybe there's a curfew_, she wondered, stepping out into the hallway. She convinced herself that there was nobody patrolling the building, before making a note of each door.

"Here we go," she said quietly, eyeing a small potted plant near the banister.

* * *

Illias sat in his room, studying the spellbook he'd bought a few days ago. It was a book for a candlelight spell, to create a hovering light that would follow him for a short time. Ironically, it would be useful to have now; he'd already burnt through two candles since getting it.

He didn't know why this spell didn't seem to work. It had taken him an hour to learn how to summon a flame atronach, even if he still couldn't do it very well. But every time he tried this one, it would always appear too bright and burn up in a few seconds, or else it would just appear as a ball of flames, dangerous in its own right. Once already it had exploded, but it was only a small detonation that hardly broke an empty pot nearby.

Illias rubbed his eyes and leaned back, feeling tired of this exercise already. He glanced at his bed for a moment, before sighing.

"One more try," he told himself. "Then I'm done for the night."

He stood up, pushing his chair back, and picked the book up in one hand. While reading, he extended his free hand, and gathered magicka in his palm, following the book's lesson in his mind. He felt the spell click in his mind, and threw open his hand, squinting just in case it worked. With the familiar pop of an activating spell, a small light appeared just above his shoulder. He hesitated nervously, before lowering his hands and laying the book down.

"I did it," he said, stunned. "I...I did it!"

All of a sudden, the light filled the room, knocking Illias back and filling his ears with a thunderous noise. He fell to his seat, feeling the familiar sting of failure, and lowered his head. Not a full second passed before he heard a pot breaking outside his door, and sighed again.

"Aunen won't be happy," he said, rising to investigate.

* * *

The assassin watched with pleasure as her plan unraveled. Luckily for her, a peculiar explosion had rocked the building the instant she lunged for the pot, masking her presence perfectly. Part of her wondered about the ruckus, but for now, it served as a distraction; if her target was panicked, then he wouldn't be able to defend himself. Three doors around the room opened, and out came an old and grumpy-looking man, a young Breton woman, and a young Breton male. All three of them found the broken pot, and an accusatory finger was pointed at the Breton boy. But before anyone even said a word, the assassin was on her way into the boy's room.

* * *

"Illias, what did you do?!" Ilasse asked angrily.

"What's going on here?" Aunen asked, looking like he'd just woken up.

"Nothing," Illias said.

"He blew something up!" Ilasse accused.

"I did not! It was just an accident."

"Settle down now," Aunen said more calmly. "Now, Illias...tell me what happened."

"I...it was my candlelight spell," Illias relented.

"How do you manage to –" Ilasse began.

"Now's not the time," Aunen said. "No harm's been done, correct?"

"Well, nobody was hurt," Ilasse said. "But he –"

"Then we can talk about this in the morning, hmm?" he said, resting a wrinkled hand on each of their shoulders. "Now, back to bed."

"Yes, Aunen," Ilasse said, turning to leave. Illias followed suit silently, and the greater room was empty in moments.

* * *

She let out a smirk as her target reentered his room, completely ignorant of where she crouched. He closed the door behind him, as though he was purposely playing into her hands, and let out a sigh as he stared at a book on his desk. After a few seconds, he shook his head and reached to put out a candle. That's when she moved.

"The steel bite," she began as soon as darkness filled the room, "the kiss of night, our guilt that's been sustained..."

* * *

Illias heard the whisper, and almost cried out in fright, when a strange vision flashed before his eyes. He was again in the dark valley, mere moments before the monster attacked and tore his life from him. But when the second half of the strange chant flowed from the darkness, the words had changed.

"When darkness shines..." he heard, the voice slowly changing until it was identical to his own.

"...the knife is stayed..." it continued, before he suddenly realized the words were flowing from his own mouth.

"...our innocence regained," he finished, before flashing back to reality. With a gasp, he realized that he'd actually been speaking. And the voice he'd heard earlier...hadn't been a dream.

* * *

The assassin covered her mouth with her free hand, stifling a surprised gasp. That was the code! There was only one person on Nirn that could know that code! The dagger fell from her hand, startling her target and causing him to spin to face her. He immediately stumbled away, surprised yet again and now clearly beginning to panic. She gasped again for air, before finding her voice.

"Joseph?" she asked hopefully.

* * *

"Who's Joseph?" Illias asked in a panic. The woman stared at him for a few moments, before glancing down.

"What trickery is this?!" she demanded loudly, shooting a venomous glare at him. Before he could react, she grabbed his collar and spun him into the wall behind her. The knife she'd dropped was back in her hand in a flash, and found its way to his throat as she continued to watch him closely.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You be quiet," she told him. Her eyes then went distant, flashing back and forth as she apparently thought about something. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm just a mage! I didn't do anything wrong."

"Then how did you –" she began, when a banging was heard on the building's main door.

"Open up!" she heard a guard shout.

"So _there _they are," she said under her breath.

"What?" he asked nervously. The banging on the door intensified, as though someone was trying to break it down, and she dropped Illias.

"We've got to get out of here," she said, walking toward the window.

"Wait, hold on, what do you mean, 'we'?"

"The guards don't know _I'm_ here. Since they're breaking your door down, I can guess they don't just want to split a sweetroll with you."

"But wait, hold on a second. What's going on?"

"I don't know, kid, but I'm not waiting around to find out. You can stay, or you can come, it's your choice."

"I'm not just going to run without a reason," Illias said, opening his room's door just as the guards made it through the front door. "What's the meaning –" he began.

"There he is!" one of the guards shouted. As if on cue, three guards whipped out bows and knocked arrows, aiming at him, while another rushed toward him.

"Whoa!" Illias shouted, slamming the door shut just as an arrowhead smashed through the wood. He dashed toward the window, and leaned out. "Lady? Hey, where are you?"

"Up here," she said, hanging from the wall above his head. "Glad you decided to listen. Gimme your hand."

"Why did they shoot at me?" he asked as she hoisted him up. She hesitated a few moments, giving him some time to look around. This part of the roof was flat, but towers rose up in almost every direction. To one side, there was a very long drop to the sharp rocks below, and to another, one of the city's walls stretched, almost asking to be run along. From here, he couldn't see the courtyard, but he knew from experience that from just a few steps out onto the wall, he could.

"I already told you, I don't know. How about you worry about living, and then you can find out later."

"Me? What happened to 'we'?"

"I'm just getting you out of here, okay? After that, you're on your own."

"But why? Why are you helping me?" he asked. She sighed and glanced around, before staring at him intently.

"How did you know the code?"

"What?"

"The code! 'When darkness shines, the knife is stayed, our innocence regained.' Only one person should know that code, so how did you find out about it?"

"I..." he began, before squinting at her. "You're an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood. Sent to kill me. Why should I trust to you?"

"Because without me, you won't escape Solitude alive," she replied. "I'll make you a deal; I get you out alive, you tell me everything you know about me, the Brotherhood, and that code."

"Hang on, I want to know who wants me dead."

"I wouldn't tell anyone who gave me the contract, least of all you."

"No, not through the Brotherhood. Who sent a freaking guard patrol to kill me?"

"What makes you think I know that?"

"You don't have to. Just help me figure it out."

"Look, kid, I can't –" she began.

"You can, though," he said. She hesitated for a moment.

"Not right now," she said, "Come on; we need to get to the top of the Emperor's Tower."

"Why there?" Illias asked as she ran toward the top of the city's wall in a crouch.

"Because there's a passage there that leads all the way down to the docks."

"I know that one," he said, remembering when Ilasse had told him about it. He glanced back at his home wistfully, and saw a group of guards emerging slowly. Someone struggled in the middle of the group, and Illias squinted. _It can't be_, he thought in horror.

"Ilasse!" he shouted, before searching frantically for a way down. Just before he began trying to scale the wall down, something grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him back from the edge.

"What's wrong with you?!" she whispered as a few guards began to search in their direction.

"They have Ilasse!" he shouted.

"He's on the wall!" a guard yelled.

"Gotta move," the assassin said, dashing along the wall.

"Wait for me!" Illias shouted. He followed her closely, staying in a low crouch as she walked across the wall. He made the mistake once of looking down, and suddenly felt dizzy from the sheer drop to his left. Even if there was water down there, he knew from experience that it wasn't deep, and even hitting deep water from this height could still be painful.

"Where did he go?" the guards shouted to one another, running around in the city's streets.

"Don't let him escape!" one guard shouted.

"We've got company," the assassin warned, nodding toward the castle as a few nervous guards took their first steps onto the thick wall. Several others were knocking arrows, and Illias knew what would happen if he was even hit once.

"Let's see if this works," he told himself, gathering power in his palm. With only a little concentration, he powered up one of his favorite spells, and cast it as far as his mind would let him. With a loud noise, a dark hole opened in the air atop the wall, and out emerged a feminine figure, made almost entirely of flames. Illias let a soft smile come across his face as the feeling of being in complete control took its toll, and the guards lowered their weapons nervously.

"Idiot! Now they all know where we are!" the assassin hissed. She looked forward once more, and saw guards standing on various patios and porches, drawing their bows and aiming up at the pair.

"Well, it's working," Illias said as the guards at the castle began to back away before they were hit with a fireball. He didn't notice the many other guards who weren't backing down, and he had no idea how many bows were drawn and aimed at him.

"Jump," the assassin commanded abruptly.

"What?" he asked in surprise.

"Jump!" she said, leaping as far forward as she could moments before an arrow hit her. Before Illias knew what was happening, an arrow whizzed by his ear, startling him and making him lose his balance. Another arrow passed through where his head had been moments before, and he saw a third arrow shoot out over the wall as he fell down from its dizzying height. With a glance toward the waters, he saw a rock jutting from the city's foundation, and knew immediately that he would hit it first, then fall a long way to the waters below.

He cursed loudly and curled himself up, protecting his head. He clenched his eyes shut as hard as he could, and couldn't even react when something hard smashed into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious immediately. He tumbled off of the wall, and the guards above watched with satisfaction as his body hit the waters far below.


End file.
